


The Freezing Fire and the Living Vampire

by murdochinthetardis



Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Martin Priest - Freeform, Osmund is a creep but that's no surprise, Pre-Canon, Priest Brothers AU, i did this instead of homework
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-10
Updated: 2018-04-10
Packaged: 2019-04-21 03:16:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14275755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/murdochinthetardis/pseuds/murdochinthetardis





	The Freezing Fire and the Living Vampire

If you somehow manage to recover deleted files, shredded papers, and hidden, faded photographs, you’ll uncover something. You’ll find the story of two brothers. Two very strange brothers with powers that most humans couldn’t understand.

The Priest twins had the same blue eyes, the same thick southern accent, and the same tendency to get into trouble. However, this was where the similarities ended.

Martin was the kind of boy who couldn’t sit still. He’d drum his fingers on his thighs, run them through his dark hair, fiddle with whatever was in his hands. Martin was loud, energetic, and hated following rules. Still, he was kind. Martin had a soft heart. He’d play with the kids who sat alone, do more than his share of chores at home, and bring in so many stray animals that his mother would have to tell him “no, we can’t keep it” at least once a week. Martin was extremely empathetic, to the point he could tell you were sad before your eyes had a chance to water.

Osmund was the opposite. He followed rules, hell he loved rules. But behind his clean clothes and tidy blonde hair was something that made you uneasy. His smile looked comforting at first but it made your stomach flip. Osmund was the kind of boy who’d burn ants with a magnifying glass and sob “I was just tryna look at them!” when he was caught, but the tears would end the second the adult’s back was turn, and it was back to watching the insects writhe.

Other children didn’t want to play with him. Somehow they’d end up and the bottom of a tree with a broken arm, or running up to an adult with a bleeding wound. Osmund didn’t push them, didn’t hurt them, no he never laid a hand on them. He simply would suggest “Why don’t you jump? Jump, it’s safe.” or “No, I’m sure it won’t bite you. Pet the dog.” or “Come on, haven’t you always wanted to know how it feels? It tickles. You just put the fork in the toaster, it’s that easy.” and the children would listen. Adults would listen. He had a way of getting people to do things. Everyone but Martin.

Martin got his first pair of glasses when he was ten. They were broken a week later in a schoolyard fight. “He called me odd.” Martin grumbled in the principal’s office, an ice pack against his swollen eye (the other kid was in the nurse’s office and wouldn’t be leaving any time soon) “I’m not odd.” Martin argued.

But Martin was odd. The way he could read emotions, practically smell them. The way that one day, one of his friends had an epilepsy attack in class. Martin stood over the girl and something… odd happened. Blue light rose up from her body, almost crackling with energy. Martin opened his mouth on instinct and breathed it in. The girl was fine afterwards. Martin was fine, hell he was better than fine, he felt like he could punch straight through a wall. The teacher, however, called Ms. Priest.

Ms. Priest called Mr. Riggins. Riggins explained his new program to her. “It’s for… odd people. To try to understand them. To try to help them.” Maybe in his heart he did want to help, but the road to Hell is paved with good intentions.

“Twins?” Riggins asked.

“Fraternal.” Ms. Priest responded.

“Their father?”

“Long gone. I raised these boys on my own.” She paused. “Was it something I did?”

“No, ma’am. It’s something natural. I can’t exactly explain it. What can they do? Is it the same thing?”

Ms. Priest shook her head. “No. Osmund… he- he could tell fire to freeze and water to burn. He has a way of talking that makes people do things.”

“And the other? Martin?”

“Martin knows emotions before even you do. He also does this thing- I can’t describe it. It’s like he’s eating… energy. I’ve only seen it once. He and Osmund got into a fight. Talking turned to yelling, yelling turned to swinging fists and… blue light. When I got to them, Osmund was on the ground and Martin had a cut on his nose.”

“They don’t get along?” Riggins asked his final questions.

“No,” Ms. Priest replied. “They may be brothers by blood, but they ain’t brothers by soul.”

Martin’s mother did want to help him. She also wanted to understand Osmund. She agreed to Blackwing, signed some papers, and told the twins to pack their things.

Surprisingly, Osmund didn’t even question it. He packed a bag and sat in the van outside without even saying goodbye to his mother. He wasn’t mad at her, hell he couldn’t care less that he was being sent to who knows where. He just didn’t care. She was just another Normal person.

Martin kicked and screamed. He stomped on Riggins’ foot and ran back inside, straight into his mother’s arms. “I don’t wanna go, mamma. I wanna stay with you.” He sobbed.

Ms. Priest stroked his hair, took off his glasses and wiped away her son’s tears. She put the thick, square rimmed things back on. “I know, baby. But it’ll be okay. There’ll be others like you, other strangely wonderful boys.” She kissed the top of his head. “Being different ain’t bad, Martin. Never hold back what makes you unique.”

It wasn’t okay. Blackwing’s halls were a sick off-white and the lights were too bright. Martin could count the number of windows in the building on one hand. He hated it. He hated their rules, hated their tests. Not listening had consequences. Not listening meant shocks, it meant late (or no) dinner, it meant being alone in a small space. Project Incubus was under tight security.

Project Succubus had promise. Osmund listened. He did everything Blackwing instructed him to do. He even managed to talk his way into benefits. Being allowed to wander the halls, being allowed outside. He never tried to run. Why would he? Osmund liked it there. They even let him observe Martin’s tests.

“Is it true,” Riggins once asked. “That twins feel each other's pain?”

“Shock him harder and I’ll let you know.” Priest replied with a twisted grin.

Days turned to weeks, weeks to months, months to years. Time had no meaning to Martin anymore. But one day, the normal routine was broken. The silence in his room was broken by a “hello?”

Martin looked up from his rectangular hole in the ground, leaning forward in his restraints. “Hello? Is someone else there?” He shouted.

“Holy shit!” The voice to his left exclaimed. “It’s true! They said there was someone else like us, but I didn’t know if I could believe them, I mean they’re crazy man, they’re-”

Martin cut off the rambling voice. “Us?”

“Us!” Another voice to the right of him replied. “Yeah, we came here together!”

“I’m Cross!” Left said. “I’d wave at you but my hands are tied behind my back. I’m waving at you with my mind, man.”

“And I’m Gripps.” Right added. “Cross and I are best friends, but I think you could be our best friend too.”

“What’s your name, new-best-friend?” Cross asked.

It actually took Martin a second to remember. For all his time here he’d been Project Incubus. “Martin. My name is Martin.” No more Martin Priest. Just Martin.

“Hi, Martin!” Cross shouted. “I’m Cross!”

“You said that already!” Gripps shouted back. “So, Martin. Wanna be friends?”

“No,” Martin replied. “No, boys, we’re more than that now. We’re brothers.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Oh don’t be like that, Martin.” Osmund said calmly, wiping spit from his face. “We’re brothers.”

“You and I ain’t nothing.” Martin growled. “You and I are strangers, we’ve always been strangers. Now? Now it’s official.”

Cross, his cage also suspended in the air, out of the pit, chimed in. “Yeah! Fuck you, dude. We’re his brothers!”

They were young adults now, but things had changed for Osmund. His jumpsuit had been replaced with a uniform. No longer a project, but an agent for Blackwing. “Well then, I suppose you won’t mind a family reunion.”

Hope twinged in Martin’s chest. Was his mother here? Was she back for him? But a woman didn’t walk into the room. Another agent walked in with a young boy, younger than Martin had been when he’d arrived.

“A kid?!” Gripps exclaimed.

“The last missing piece of Project Incubus.” Osmund calmly replied.

“Oh we ain’t that! We ain’t your Project Incubus” Martin yelled, thrashing against his restraints. “WE’RE THE ROWDY THREE!”

“Don’t make me get the gas, Martin.” Osmund chuckled. “This little fella is Vogel. Now make him feel at home.”

Martin didn’t reply. He opened his mouth at let the crackling energy drain from Osmund into his own body. Cross and Gripps followed suit, one beam of light becoming three. As Osmund staggered back on the platform, little Vogel joined in too.

That’s what stopped Martin. His mouth closed and the energy stopped flowing. This child was like him. He had the same ability, and for this ability he was trapped. The rest of Incubus stopped feeding too.

Osmund laughed when the feeding stopped. “Boys, boys, boys. You know that’s against the rules.” He hit a button and the coffin-shaped cages began to lower into their pits. Osmund leaned over to Martin. “Guess there’s only one Mr. Priest now.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Get in!” Martin cried, throwing the doors to the Blackwing van open. He jumped into the driver’s seat. Gripps got in the passenger side and Cross climbed through the side of the van, little Vogel on his back. “We’re getting outta this freak zoo!”

The others hooted. Martin slammed his foot on the gas pedal and the van sped off. His glasses were gone and the road ahead was blurry as hell, but that didn’t matter now. Gripps occasionally spoke up when Martin needed to turn to avoid something.

Martin could make out one body from the others. Standing in front of the van’s path was Osmund Priest, grinning, daring his twin to run him over. Martin’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. He wanted to hit that creep, he wanted to run that psychopath over. But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. He wasn’t like Osmund. He didn’t kill for fun. At the last second, Martin pulled the wheel to the side and swerved around Osmund.

As they drove away, Martin relaxed. He left Osmund behind physically, but now he could finally do it mentally too. The boogeyman was gone. He wasn’t family, no family isn’t always blood. Sometimes you choose family. Sometimes family is three other energy-vampires in a van. Family was the Rowdy 3.


End file.
